


something wicked

by shineonloki



Series: 100 Lifetimes Challenge [2]
Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Extremely Dubious Consent, Horror, I'm going to leave some tags out, M/M, Probably closer to non-con, Spit As Lube, Supernatural Elements, for plot reasons, tagged it that to be safe, trickery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 09:30:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16447268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineonloki/pseuds/shineonloki
Summary: There was something unnatural about the tree line. Something that held an eerie ambiance, like a veil between two worlds. His father had tried to build a fence, a feeble old thing, to keep Thor from straying too close.But, there was always something, always a pull.





	something wicked

There was something unnatural about the tree line. Something that held an eerie ambiance, like a veil between two worlds. His father had tried to build a fence, a feeble old thing, to keep Thor from straying too close. But, there was always something, always a pull.

That was where he first saw him, hanging on the edge of a fence post, on the wrong side. He looked like a ghost, pale skin against white linens. Thor had never seen him before, and he knew all the townsfolk.

He must be visiting, Thor thought. That was why he didn’t fear the forest.

“You shouldn’t be there,” Thor called out, swinging his ax to lodge it in the tree stump. The boy stayed, unphased, watching Thor with amusement.

“Why is that?”

“Those woods are haunted,” Thor explained, hesitating after the boy only raised a brow in skepticism. “That’s what they say anyway.”

“Do you believe?”

Thor stopped just shy of the fence. He’d never traveled this close before. The magnetic pull of the forest was stronger, calling to him, beckoning him to come forward. He looked up at the tangled mess of bare branches, the wind calling them forward, reaching their bony fingers out.

“No,” Thor lied.

The boy smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his green eyes. He didn’t believe him.

Up close, he was beautiful. Sharp, angular features; big, wide eyes; dark hair that fell in soft curls around his face. It was like the phantoms of the forest forged him, sent him to Thor to entice and lure. His lips, a thin pink line, curved upwards.

“Do you always stare so intently?”

A flush came to his cheeks with the realization he’d been caught staring. He shook his head, shaggy hair flopping. “No, I was just trying to remember if I had seen you before.” It was another lie— Thor didn’t lie typically, he was a good child, or so his mother said.

The boy didn’t say anything, just kept watching, like he was picking Thor apart piece by piece, rearranging them back together for a more intimate understanding of his nature.

“Where are you from?”

“Around.”

“I’ve never seen you around,” Thor admonished.

“Maybe you haven’t been looking.”

Thor snapped his mouth shut. An ominous feeling settled into his gut like a heavy stone at the cryptic response. He remembered all the folk tales of ghosts and evil spirits, of how the forest was full of them. He looked too beautiful to be either of those, but he knew evil came in pretty packages.

It was how the devil bargained with temptation.

A silence settled over them, a gust of wind rattling the trees and sending the rot of autumn tumbling around their feet.

“I have to go finish my chores now,” Thor told him, finally a truth.

A curt nod. “Of course.”

It wasn’t until Thor was half-way to the woodpile that he heard the call of his name. He looked back over his shoulder to find his strange companion still leaning on the fence, hands cupped around his mouth.

“I am Loki,” he shouted.

It wasn’t until much later, after the candles had been blown out and he’d settled into bed that he thought of Loki again. He had stayed at the fence, Thor felt his burning gaze on him as he finished chopping the wood for the furnace. They hadn’t spoken again, but when he turned to wave goodbye, Loki had already been gone.

And, it wasn’t until much later after that, on the cusp of sleep, that Thor realized he never told Loki his name, yet he had known it all the same.

In a panic he rose from his bed, looking out the window and into the dark. The tree line was illuminated only by the moonlight, a thick fog rolling across the land and shrouding bottoms of thick trunks. His chest was heaving up and down, up and down, up and down.

There was nothing there.

He sunk back into his quilt and attempted to calm the fear inside him before falling into a soundless sleep.

* * *

Thor saw Loki again two weeks later, right as he was beginning to wonder whether the entire thing had been a fever dream.

He had been careful to avoid to the woods, but he father insisted he check the traps— he was growing older and more fragile, trekking the acres of their homestead took a toll. Thor bundled up, doubling his linens against the cold October morning, armed himself with a hunting knife, and set out.

Beyond the fence, Loki sat bent over the frozen earth, nails covered in dirt as he raked soil over a hole.

“What did you bury?” Thor asked instead of a proper greeting.

Loki looked up and smiled; he looked genuinely happy to see him. It caught Thor off guard. All the angry things he had thought about saying quelled inside him at Loki’s soft expression.

“How have you been?” Loki ignored the question, standing to wipe his dirt-covered hands on his dark breeches. He kicked leaves over the freshly tousled soil, and any further questions died on Thor’s lips.

“Busy.”

It was true, the approaching winter required a lot of work from all the members of the household. Thor, being the only son, had most of the responsibilities fall on his shoulders. Loki appeared to be around his age, nearing their eighteenth year. Something in Thor found it peculiar he didn’t seem to share the same burdens.

“Would you like to check the traps with me?”

Loki grinned impossibly wide and ducked under the fence to join him.

There was something Thor had wanted to ask him, but he couldn’t remember what.

* * *

He was in the woods, barefoot and following the sound of chanting. There was something hot, like fire, the incantation calling him further and further into the forest, until he came to a clearing and—

That’s when he woke, bolting upright in a cold sweat. He could still hear the disembodied whispers speaking a language he’d never heard— an echo from his nightmare. Thor couldn’t translate the words, but he knew they were meant for him.

He softly padded to the window, looking out at the early morning horizon. His heart stopped, ice running through his veins.

In the middle of the field, on his side of the gate, stood a horned figure. It’s body lithe and human-like, dawning a flowing white sleep gown, billowing in the breeze. The head on its shoulder was anything but human— the head of a buck, soulless black eyes staring up at him.

Thor ran to his bed, burrowing under the covers, heart threatening to break free from his ribcage. Eyes screwed tight, he prayed to wake up.

Wake up, Thor.

Wake up.

* * *

 

“Do you ever have nightmares?”

Loki looked up at him, pausing in stringing up his fishing hook. Those green eyes studied him for a moment as if he were trying to find a deeper meaning to Thor’s very straight-forward question.

“Sometimes,” he answered calmly. “Doesn’t everyone?”

Thor couldn’t remember exactly what happened, more like traces of deja vu. The only thing that stuck to him, cloy on his skin, was the feeling of a sinister entity watching. He didn’t say that though, just cast his line out to the pond.

It’d be too cold to fish soon. The temperature was already low enough to leave tiny puffs of their breath as they spoke to each other. Thor pried for more information; Loki skillfully evaded answering. Thor took it in stride, never prying too much, moving on to the next subject easily when he realized Loki wouldn’t be giving him an answer.

It only struck Thor odd when he crossed the threshold to his house, the bucket of fish in his hand. Loki had taken none of their catch for himself. Which again, only just then rang a bell of warning.

There was a voice in his head telling him Loki wasn’t what he appeared. There was another voice telling him that he always knew that. And, another asking him how much he truly cared.

* * *

Thor found Loki where he always did, loitering by the fence on the side of the forest. He never saw from which direction he came, or which direction he went. He was just always there, right when Thor needed him.

It was strange, how easily Loki had carved a place for himself in Thor’s life, etched his name into his bones. He felt a kinship he couldn’t put into words; he lacked the vocabulary for such a bizarre emotional tug.

Loki sat beside him, back pressed against a fence post, whittling something in his lap with great concentration. Thor watched him silently, admiring the line of his nose, the sharpness of his high cheekbones, the way his dark lashes fluttered as he worked, the way damp curls stuck to his neck. His lips— the way they were pulled into a straight line. His tongue— the way it darted out to dampen them.

“What are you making?” Thor asked, if only to tear himself away from his own staring.

“Something.”

Thor nodded, directing his attention to his hands and where his fingers dug into the dirt. He tugged absently at the grass. Loki stayed quiet as he continued to carve, and Thor stayed content to just be in his company. There was a comfort there between them and he wanted to sink into it, become lost in it.

Hands came to clamp down on his shoulders and he was being shaken gently.

“Thor?”

Thor blinked his eyes open, Loki’s face swimming into view. He smiled when Thor smiled.

“You dozed off, you should get home and I should be going.”

He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, accepting Loki’s outstretched hand to be hauled back to his feet. Rather than stepping away, Loki stayed in his space, close enough their breath mingled. It warmed him more than his linens ever could. He wanted to reach out and to hold—

The intrusive thought struck him like a match. The flame was lit.

Loki took one of Thor’s hands in both of his, pressing something firmly to his palm.

“I made this for you,” he whispered, breath ghosting along Thor’s cheek.

It was more intimate than anything he had experienced before, and his chest ached for the chance to act on his shameful desires. It was wrong, but he wanted. He wanted.

Thor held the trinket tight in his palm, close to his chest. His legs moved on their own accord, up towards the cabin with the smoking chimney stack. His home. He kept this gift hidden in his fist as he climbed the stairs to his room, ignoring his father’s irritating questions about his whereabouts.

Once the door was closed with his back pressed against it, he unfurled his fingers.

A spike of fear pierced him like an arrow.

In his palm, lay a tiny carved deer head, soulless eyes staring up at him.

* * *

 

Thor woke to a deadly silence, moonlight spilling into his room. He felt the unnerving sensation of being watched, and for a moment debated crawling into bed with his mother and father to escape the haunting shadows dancing on his walls.

On the nightstand beside him, the wooden deer head stared. He knocked it off with a loud clatter.

Against his better judgement, he crept to the window.

Below, standing in a triangular formation, were three figures. The two on the outer corners were cloaked in black, the one in the middle wore the same white gown as before. Each had the head of a deer on their shoulders.

They stood, unmoving, black, beady eyes looking through the window.

Wake up.

* * *

 

Thor trudged down to the fence with a boiling anger beneath his skin. It was obvious to him now, that he was the center of some elaborate jest. Loki, whoever he was, was set on tormenting him. Standing on his family’s property in those menacing masks, making Thor feel inappropriate things for another man.

It had gone on long enough, he’d been neglecting his home duties. So much that his mother had fed the goats on Thor’s behalf to spare him punishment.

“Is something the matter?” Loki called, tilting his head and taking Thor in.

Thor stopped just short of him, he raised his hand, fingers clenched tightly in a fist. He brought his hand to gently brush a smudge of dirt away from his cheek with the back of his knuckle.

“No,” Thor blinked. “Of course not. Why do you ask?”

Loki smiled at him, bringing his hand to cover Thor’s.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Let us enjoy the day.”

Thor let Loki lead them along the fence perimeter, until they approached the pasture, tall grass swaying in the breeze. From their place on the hill, they could see were the forest rose into the mountains, the peaks white with snow. The air smelled fresher here, a healing aroma that Thor breathed in and out.

Entranced in the beauty, he hadn’t noticed Loki laying down on the hard ground—stretching his slender body, blouse riding up exposing a sliver of pale flesh. Thor wondered, briefly, what it might be like to run his tongue along it.

He dismissed the thought quickly, and joined Loki on the ground, careful to stay a healthy distance away from him.

“Have you ever been with a woman before?” Loki asked him, hours later completely out of the blue.

Thor sputtered.

“No,” he said, and then: “No, of course not.”

Loki stayed silent, head still facing the cloudy sky. His thick brows were drawn together, in either concern or concentration. Thor gave a dry swallow.

“Have you?”

That seemed to break Loki from his trance, he turned his head, dark hair spilling behind him. He gave Thor a reassuring smile, though it did nothing to reassure him at all.

“No, I haven’t.”

A pregnant silence, long and drawn out. Painful.

“What about with a man?” Loki whispered.

The beating of Thor’s heart stuttered, a sense of dread washing over. He knew. He knew his shame—how he lusted after his flesh. How he wanted to kiss and touch and bed him, breed him.

“No,” Thor answered. “Have you?”

Loki was still staring, hardened gaze like he’d never seen. Thor turned his body, laying on his side so that he could face him fully.

Loki inched closer; Thor did the same. They were inches apart now, both on their sides with their heads pillowed on flattened wheatgrass.

“No,” Loki whispered.

“Good.”

Loki blinked, taken back—a rare occurrence.

“Good?”

“Yes,” he breathed out.

Good, because the thought of another man’s caress on Loki was too much for Thor to handle. The thought of Loki on his hands and knees while some powerful figure took him from behind like an animal. Loki, panting, breathing someone’s name that wasn’t Thor’s.

Loki turned around to lay flat on his back once more, hands folded on his stomach.

“It isn’t good at all,” he said, low and quiet. There was something in his voice, something melancholy. Thor didn’t know what he meant— he didn’t ask.

* * *

It was the nightmare again. The one where he was lost in the forest, sharp branches piercing the bottom of his feet, briar sinking sharp teeth into his skin, taking hold and tearing at the flesh. He cried out in pain, but it was soundless, and he kept running through the thicket, following the chanting and firelight barely visible through the naked trees.

He reached a clearing, finally, chest heaving. Shadows licked across the ground, dancing in the flames. Faceless, naked bodies circled the fire dancing, and dancing, and dancing. Their featureless bodies writhing and twisting to nothing.

It was horrifying, but he was rooted in place, the thorns of the brush twisted around his ankles. Thor stood shackled to the Earth and watched as the bodies stopped abruptly in jerky movements, frozen in place.

Beyond the fire stood the deer-headed figure in the white gown. It held out a very human hand.

Wake up.

* * *

Loki wasn’t waiting for him by the fence. It struck him odd but, he stamped down the disappointment and continued to the creek alone.

He should have saw it coming, after their conversation. Thor knew he was transparent when it came to most things. He’d never learned to lie, never really had to— so, he couldn’t say he was particularly good at it. His dirty secret was written all over his face, Loki had seen through him.

Now he was gone.

Thor scooped a pail of fresh water with a little more vigor than necessary.

“Hello, Thor.”

His head snapped up to find Loki standing at the edge of the creek. Though he couldn’t place a finger as to why, the image caused his heartrate to spike.

“Why are you wearing that?”

Hanging from Loki’s slim frame was a white sleeping gown, frill high on his collar, arms loose and flowy until they cuffed tight at his wrists. He stepped barefoot into the icy water without flinching.

“You don’t like it?”

What kind of question was that? No, he didn’t like it. But, it wasn’t for the reason he shouldn’t. There was something familiar in it, something that set off alarms in the back of his mind. _Something_ about it set off his flight-or-fight response.

Loki walked closer, soaking the hem of the gown, sloshing forward in elegant movements.

He did look beautiful.

“I do like it,” Thor heard himself say. That innate fear was being snuffed out, the closer Loki got.

Loki stopped in front of him, tilting his head to the side, a curious smile on his lips. His hair was unruly, different from how it was normally combed back behind his ears. The black curls were wild, framing his face like a madman.

“I’m still a boy underneath,” he said with that sultry voice of his. Thor shivered.

Slowly, he raised the gown, the wet fabric dragging along his naked legs until it was raised enough to tease at the head of his uncut cock hanging soft between his legs. Loki rucked the gown further up, fully exposing himself, flaccid and nestled in a bed of dark hair.

“See?”

Thor stared, nodding his head, not trusting his voice.

Loki dropped the gown, cold water splashed at Thor’s face. It did nothing to cool him down.

“I have things to attend to,” Loki said, and Thor barely registered it. “Go.”

Thor scrambled up, running for the safety of his home. He left the buckets of water. He didn’t look back.

* * *

 

Thor dreamed he was in the woods again. The chanting was back, the firelight flickering through the trees, the shadows of the dancing bodies. He begged his feet not to follow.

Then there was a hand on his shoulder, grounding him, and he turned to find Loki standing there in that damned gown, smiling with a force of danger. They weren’t in the forest anymore, but back in Thor’s room.

Everything was lit glowing red like a fire, but Loki’s eyes stayed impossibly green. He pushed Thor backward until his knees connected with the mattress and he fell with a soft bounce. Loki growled, a feral sound, and climbed over his body. Thor fell back, head against the pillow, eyes heavy-lidded in the dream-like trance.

Loki crawled over him, straddling his chest. Mirroring his actions at the creek, he slowly raised the hem of the gown, but this time his cock was hard, curved upward and slightly leaking. Thor could smell the earthy scent, the scent that was entirely Loki. It hung inches from his face and he ached to taste.

Taking himself in hand, Loki gave two slow strokes, squeezing at the head until a fat bead welled at the tip and dripped out, landing wet on Thor’s chest. He tried and failed to lift his arms, to grab at that tiny waist on top of him.

He let out a groan of frustration, this was his dream— he should be able to take what he wanted. But, Thor remained paralyzed beneath the weight of Loki. Loki, who was taking his own pleasure right there before him, hand moving in quick, jerky movements. Thor could only watch as Loki shut his eyes, face drawn together in pleasure as he released over his own knuckles, over Thor’s chest, hitting his chin and lips.

Thor licked away the salt and Loki opened his eyes to reveal solid black.

Wake up.

* * *

“Thor, my son, we need to talk.”

Frigga cornered him in the barn, hands twisting the hem of her apron. She looked tired, worn down. An instant guilt flooded him, for he knew it was his fault. His mother had picked up his slack. While he spent the days in leisure with Loki, she bent herself in two trying to hide his negligence from her husband.

The tears came freely, a dam breaking loose inside him.

“I’m sorry, mother.”

He ran to her and she took him in her arms, bundling him up with a warm love. Thor buried his face into her, breathing in the familiar scent of home. She stroked his hair, fingers weaving through the blonde strands.

“You can tell me,” she cooed, and Thor sniffed back his tears.

He couldn’t, could he? Tell her that he met a strange boy, that he spent every day with him, that he lusted and dreamt of him? Or— maybe he should tell her about the nightmares? The nightmares that seemed to come and go. Sometimes they haunted his subconscious, sometimes he couldn’t recall them at all.

“What is in the woods?”

Her hand stilled.

“Have you been in the woods?”

Thor shook his head vigorously.

“No.”

Frigga moved to place both her hands on his shoulders, firm and grounding.

“Never go there.”

He’d never seen his mother so stern; it frightened him more than the nightmares.

“What would I find?”

She didn’t take the bait. “Promise me, Thor.”

“I promise, but—”

“There are witches in the woods.”

* * *

Witches.

Thor felt a sickness in his stomach.

Witches.

He’d heard of villages being plagued by them. So many that that once they had burned them all at the stake, there had been nearly no one left. It was like a disease, disturbing and taking root in the lonely souls that were easily corrupted.

He wasn’t going into the forest, but he knew he would have to break his promise and come very close. Thor ran along the fence, as quick as his feet would take him, the sky darkening in anticipation of a storm. He would need to be fast.

Thor skidded to a stop next to one of his father’s traps. It seemed so long ago that he had been here with Loki. How many days had he lost?

Adrenaline fueled his next moves; he swung a leg over the fencepost and clambered to the other side. The air beyond the fence was suffocating, his feet itched to wander into the brush. He remained strong, resisted the pull.

The ground was covered in dead leaves, but Thor tore at the soil with his bare hands anyway. He dug until his fingers came away filthy and bloody, nails cracked and bleeding. He didn’t stop, not until there was a soft feeling of velvet.

Thor pulled the tiny bag from its grave. Carefully, with shaky, tattered fingers, he loosened the golden cord tying it closed. The cloth fell limp in his hands exposing a strange collection of items: a bone, a tooth, a lock of blonde hair, an obsidian rock.

A witchbag.

Thor threw it to the ground, stood, and crushed the contents with his boot. There was something hot rolling down his cheeks, and it was only after his vision blurred he realized it was tears. A deep, stinging sorrow coiled itself inside him.

To put a name to it, he’d call it heartbreak.

Betrayal.

Loki stood at the edge of the woods, peeking out from behind the thick trunk of a dead tree. They locked eyes and Loki had the nerve to cower back. He opened his mouth, but Thor silenced him first.

“Don’t!”

Loki’s lips snapped shut.

“If you come near me, I’ll kill you.”

The worst part was, Thor felt like he really meant it. His chest heaved another sob and he stared down at the fractured evidence of his own foolishness.

When he looked back up, Loki was gone.

* * *

He ate dinner with his family, but he felt as though he was merely watching the events from somewhere above his body. A plethora of emotions welled inside him, he couldn’t pinpoint which one made him feel worse.

The moment their dishes were done, he excused himself to bed, feigning sickness. He wanted nothing more than to drift into a dreamless sleep. It had been a long time since he had such a luxury, but with the witch’s hold gone from him, he prayed it would be possible.

* * *

H is eyes fluttered away several hours later. The house was dark and quiet, all the candles blown out and everyone tucked into their beds. Thor tried to let his eyes adjust to the dark, blinking rapidly.

In the window, the full moon hung round and bright.

Thor knew what he would find outside, which is why he didn’t flinch at the deer-headed figure in the yard. Fear no longer consumed him, but the anger did.

In blind fury, he raced outside, careful only enough to not wake his family. In hindsight, he should have been more careful, took more caution in his actions when confronting an unknown enemy. Swept up in the moment, he didn’t care.

He stopped abruptly, taking in the entity before him, the same one from his nightmares. Real, breathing, standing before him in the same white gown and deer-head mounted on its shoulders. In the moonlight, he could see the body beneath the thin cloth. It was familiar in shape.

Trembling hands rose to take hold of the mask.

Thor already knew.

Loki tossed the hollowed-out carcass head to the side, hair spilling over his shoulders, eyes rimmed red even in the dark.

“Thor, I’m sorry.”

Thor snorted back an unamused laugh. “For what?” It was a rhetorical question.

Loki’s face turned apologetic, that familiar head tilt before his eyes went black.

“For this.”

The witch lifted his hand and the world went dark.

* * *

When Thor’s consciousness flickered back into existence, it was with a rock jabbing at his backside and rough bark supporting him upright. He could barely see, but he could make out a thick cluster of trees surrounding him.

His heart froze.

He was in the forest.

“There isn’t much time,” Loki growled from beside him. Thor moved to push him away, only to discover his hands were bound tight with a thick rope.

“Let me go,” he growled, thrashing against the restraints, slowly realizing that his torso was also bound to the trunk. Thor’s blood ran cold. This was it, he was to be strung up like a pig for slaughter. His body left in the woods to rot and decay, no one would dare look for him here.

He blinked back tears. He had promised his mother he wouldn’t go to the woods.

“Let me go,” this time it was a desperate plea, heavy with wet sobs.

Loki shushed him like a mother scolding a child. It worked, Thor ceased his begging.

“Please don’t make me gag you too,” Loki sighed. He crawled over to him, on hands and knees—a sight that would have once been very appealing. “I told you, we don’t have much time. They will be looking for you now.”

Thor didn’t follow, but he didn’t get the chance to ask because Loki’s fingers were moving to the laces of his breeches, dipping his cold fingers to soothe at the flesh he found inside. Thor hated how his treacherous body responded to the touch, his cock stiffening with each soft caress.

“There,” Loki breathed, his pupils dilated, staring down at where his fingers disappeared beneath the folds of Thor’s breeches. He was hardening fast, and Loki changed his pressure, rubbing harder until he was rising from the confines of the fabric. “There, come on, get hard for me.”

Thor’s head slammed back against the tree trunk when Loki wrapped his finger’s around his shaft, now standing at full attention, straining for more. It made him feel disgusted, dirty, and used. Especially with the way Loki licked his palm lewdly and slicked him up.

“Why?”

He didn’t know why he asked. Loki would never give him a straight answer to anything. Still, his brain and his heart both demanded an answer.

Loki straddled him, hiking up the gown and lining himself up with Thor’s cock. Realization struck him like a hammer and he tried to stop it, thrashing to try and buck Loki from him. Loki braced himself on the tree behind Thor’s shoulders, panting out jagged breaths.

“Stop, Thor, I’m sorry,” Loki ground out between clenched teeth. He did sound sorry, his voice strained with a heavy tremble. “They need you to be pure. We have to—”

Loki sunk back down, and Thor felt the head of his cock become consumed by a tight, unbearable heat. Then, Loki scrambled to pull at the gown, lifting up enough to give Thor a good view of the happenings beneath it— Loki’s body sinking and taking all of him slowly, him filling up that hole like his body was made for it.

They stayed like that, Thor fully sheathed inside him, while Loki hissed and panted, ripping at the gown to keep it open. It was too much, the tightness around, threatening to squeeze the life from him. He tried not to let the tears sting at his eyes, he had wanted it, after all— at one point in time.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen like this,” Loki mumbled. He lifted himself up, dropping back down— they both cried out, Loki knocking his forehead against Thor’s. He repeated the motion, leaving them gasping.

Loki picked up the pace after that, fucking himself hard and fast on Thor’s cock. Bound and restrained, he was helpless to resist, helpless to aid. So, he cleared his mind and attempted to find the pleasure in the way Loki seemed to crave him.

“I chose you,” he told him, grinding down and rolling his hips with Thor buried deep inside. “We needed an innocent.”

Thor growled. Of course, he had just been a pawn in Loki’s sinister game. He lurched forward, latching on with teeth to the tender skin on Loki’s neck, biting hard enough for a warm, metallic taste to flood his mouth. It seemed to have the opposite effect, because a loud moan fell from Loki’s lips and his rhythm faltered slightly.

“But, something happened,” Loki whispered, slowing himself to a devastating crawl. It was too intimate for whatever was transpiring between them. It hurt a lot less when Loki was bouncing on his cock, using him for his own pleasure.

Loki placed one hand on Thor’s cheek and dropped the other between them, grasping at his own neglected erection.

“I have to ruin you, don’t you see?”

Thor stared down where Loki took himself in his fist, so reminiscent of his dream— the one where his body had begged to be painted with seed. There was a part of him that still yearned for it, a part that wanted his hands free, so he might push Loki to his back and fuck him himself.

“I won’t let them take you,” Loki panted. He was close, Thor could tell in the quiver of his voice and the unsteadiness of his thrusts. “You’re mine.”

Those words did something to him, struck a fire in his belly. He knew Loki was right. He knew he belonged to him, wholeheartedly. That had never been an enchantment. For, he felt it the moment he saw Loki, posted on the fence with that sly smile.

“I’m yours,” Thor breathed out, the building pressure coming to a head. “I’m yours.”

Loki choked out a sob, slamming down on Thor’s lap as he came, and Thor found himself tumbling right after, pushing up to pump Loki’s abused hole full of his spend. Loki slumped against him, breathing hard, nosing at his neck.

“I’m sorry,” Loki whispered. “But, you’re safe now. You can no longer fulfil the ritual.”

Quietly, Loki moved to unbind the rope at Thor’s wrists. The freedom brought a pleasure almost comparable to his earlier release. He brought his hands between them and Loki took ahold, soothing at the wrists, pressing a soft kiss to the inside.

“What will they do to you?”

Loki laughed.

“They can’t really use me now either, can they?”

If Thor had any shame left in him, he would have blushed.

“I’ll need to leave,” Loki finally answered. He patted the ground until his hand came back with a hunting knife that Thor recognized as his own, and he set to cutting the ropes that bound his torso to the tree.

“Where will you go?”

Loki merely shrugged. “Away. If the rest catch up to me, I’ll be burned alive for the betrayal.”

Thor knew he should be mad, knew that he should take off running the moment the rope went slack. Loki tricked him, groomed him for a bloody death for a witch ritual, and tied him to a tree and took his purity. Ruined him. Those things were there, burned into his brain, until suddenly, they weren’t.

“I’ll go with you.”

Loki stood, arm stretched out for him to take. He took it, eagerly, allowed himself to be pulled up and slammed against the tree trunk. Thor was attacked from every angle, lips and teeth at his mouth, jaw and neck. He opened, allowed Loki to lick his way inside.

“You may never see your family again.”

A nip to his bottom lip.

“I don’t care about them,” Thor told him. “I only care about you.”

Loki’s lips twisted into a wicked smile and he drew back, petting at Thor’s hair.

“We must go then. Come now.” He gave a light pat to Thor’s cheek, and Thor diligently obeyed.

Something told him to go back, to go home and tell his family goodbye. But, he looked back at Loki, basking in the light of the full moon; sheer, billowing white blowing around him. He was beautiful, ethereal.

Eyes black, he held out his hand and Thor took it. Loki led them deep into the thicket of trees, Thor trailing behind without a protest— his pet, his servant, now his lover. Together, they were the only two in the forest.

Loki smiled triumphantly.

Wake up, Thor.

Wake up.

* * *

There was something unnatural about the tree line. Something that held an eerie ambience, like a veil between two worlds. Old-man Odin had tried to build a fence, a feeble old thing, to keep his son from straying too close.

But, there was always something, always a pull.

And, in the end, Thor had been lost.

**Author's Note:**

> in case the ending isn't clear (i feared it wasn't)-- there was a ritual that needed to be filled, and loki did succeed. he wanted thor bound to him, and through the trickery got what he wanted. this story started as something else entirely and ended up as this. anyway, please leave feedback! it feeds me well. :) thank you.


End file.
